clue number 12
by elyndis
Summary: Ryan and Esposito do a little detecting. Post-Always.


**Clue #12**

**Author's note**: This is my first Castle fic, so into the woods we go. Many thanks to Polly Lynn for her insightful comments.

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"Yo, check out what Beckett's wearing today."

Ryan peeked out from behind the mountain of folders containing the victim's financial records and paused to survey the detective pacing the length of the murder board. "Long navy dress shirt belted at the waist, dark gray slacks, four-inch heels. Why?"

"Not just any shirt – a men's shirt."

Ryan shrugged one shoulder. "Menswear for ladies is in right now."

"Really, bro?"

"What? I read Vanity Fair."

"Not the point, Ryan. Know what else? I'm pretty sure those are the same _slacks _she was wearing yesterday."

Ryan finally looked up, intrigued. He marked his place with a pen and let his gaze trip over the bullpen, lingering on the lead detective's slightly wrinkled pants. "Hey, doesn't Castle have that exact navy shirt? He wore it last week, when he spilled coffee on it and then pouted until Beckett agreed to _help him clean up _in the bathroom."

Esposito hummed low in his throat and Ryan finally took the hint.

"I'll add it to my list," he agreed, pulling open his desk drawer and feeling along the edge for his secret notepad. It was identical in appearance to his work one, and he kept it for jotting down gift ideas for Jenny's numerous cousins and tracking stats for his fantasy baseball league and apparently also for collecting evidence of Castle and Beckett's…romantic dalliances? Burgeoning relationship?

His fingers encountered nothing but cool steel.

"Uh, I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I think I might swapped the notepad with the list with my work notepad on accident."

"What? Where is it?" Esposito's entire head swiveled as his eyes darted around the bullpen like he was participating in the world's most high-stakes game of Where's Waldo.

"I…gave it to Beckett. The vic's family is coming in and she wanted to see if they recognize the suspicious guy the neighbor saw."

"Dude, why didn't you just make the list in the back of your regular notepad? Or keep it on your phone?" Esposito looked five seconds away from slapping Ryan upside the head, or maybe pulling out his gun.

Ryan's voice was a hysterical whine. "Are you crazy? I can't keep a list like that in my regular notepad, what if Gates wants to check a witness statement I took? And I'd look suspicious typing on my phone all the time; everyone knows Jenny prefers to call."

They were rudely startled out of their argument by the approaching clatter of heels.

"Hey – hey, Beckett."

She regarded the two of them, face expressionless except for the fire blazing in her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was low and it brooked no room for disagreement.

"You two, in the box. Now."

"Great, what did _I _do," Esposito muttered as he scrambled to join his partner in their walk of doom, Beckett bringing up the rear. She flung the door closed after them and it clicked shut with a terrible kind of finality. The chatter of the bullpen muffled, Esposito and Ryan stood in silence until Beckett produced the offending notepad out of nowhere and slapped it down on the table between them.

"What the hell is this?" she hissed, fixing both detectives with a withering look.

Ryan traced the pockmarked surface of the table, eyes downcast. "There's obviously something going on between you and Castle, but you guys won't tell us."

"Yeah, it's called a personal life, Ryan."

"But you know there's a pool going," Esposito interjected, an uncharacteristic whine to his voice.

"And that gives you the right to put Castle and I under surveillance?"

"We're detectives. You're always asking us to _detect_." Esposito supplied helpfully, but another death glare from her shut him up.

Beckett sighed, running a hand through her hair. She wasn't truly mad. Hell, she'd expected something like this. But leaving damning evidence like this around the precinct, where anyone could find it? Where Gates could find it?

She adjusted her watch, gave her head a little shake to clear it. "And what's with the title?"

"Caskett clues? Caskett is a combination –"

"I know what a portmanteau is, Ryan. What I'm wondering is why you saw it necessary to give us one. Beckett and Castle too many syllables for you?"

"Wait, did you say _us_?" Esposito cut in. "So –"

"Shut it, Espo. Unless you want to join Ryan in timeout. I hear there's a meth addict in the throes of withdrawal in lockup who could really use a cellmate."

"What did _I _do?" Esposito repeated what was quickly becoming his catchphrase of the day.

Beckett narrowed her eyes at him but before she could make good on her threat the door burst open to reveal a grinning Castle, two coffees in hand.

"There you are! I was looking for you guys. Well, mostly Beckett. Why are you huddled in here anyway? Wait – don't tell me. Meeting for your secret club? Oooh, I want in! I call secretary: I write fast, and I'm great at lending a certain flair to the meeting minutes, if I do say so myself." He waved the coffees as he rambled, and the boys took the opportunity to edge around Castle and out the door, Ryan shooting Castle a sympathetic look as he eased the door closed behind them. Better to let Mom and Dad work it out than get caught in the crossfire.

Castle was still bouncing on the balls of his feet, overly excited about his secret club idea. Beckett sighed for the millionth time that morning and rubbed at her face with one hand.

"Castle, how much coffee have you had already?"

"None yet, why?"

"It's – nevermind."

He offered her the coffee and finally seemed to notice the disappearance of the other detectives. "Why did Ryan look like Jenny had just threatened to move to Mexico and take his honey milk with her?"

Beckett slid the open notepad across the table, watching as Castle skimmed the page and attempted to stifle his laughter.

"Don't tell me you approve," she groused, rolling her eyes.

Castle tried to school his features into a neutral mask but by the way Beckett's lips were pursed and the way her forehead vein was bulging he was pretty sure he was failing miserably.

"Caskett? You do have to admit – it is oddly appropriate considering what we do."

"What I do. I'm still not sure what it is that you do, exactly."

Castle touched his fingers to his chest in mock hurt. "You wound me, fair detective. I thought we'd established that we're partners," he leaned in conspiratorially and stage-whispered, "…in bed."

Beckett chucked the notepad at him, but a grin was tugging at her lips. Her gaze flicked from his eyes to lips and back again.

"Behave, Richard Castle, or my name won't be the only thing you scream tonight."

With that, she scooped up her coffee, spun on her heel and marched back into the bullpen, leaving Castle to grab the notepad and trail along in her wake, eyes heavy with love and amusement.

From behind the one-way glass Ryan and Esposito fistbumped over the recording equipment.

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**A/N**: Let me know what you think! Reviews make me feel shiny.


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